


Hanging by a Thread

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Modern Mayhem [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Injury, Modern AU, Thangorodrim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-17 11:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3527858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What should be a quick task of retrieving an item soon turns into a nightmare and Maedhros finds himself moments from death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Picnic Gone Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for attempted murder and mild descriptions of grievous injury.
> 
> Ages  
> Maedhros - 14  
> Maglor - 13  
> Finrod - 13  
> Fingon - 12  
> Celegorm - 10  
> Caranthir - 8

“Where are you going Kano?” Maedhros watched as his brother tired to slip past him, back toward their picnic site.

He blushed. “I left my flute,” he confessed.

Maedhros shook his head. “Father won't be pleased. You know that's why he was leery of allowing you to bring it along.”

“And he loved your playing. We all did.”

Caranthir ran to Maglor and demanded, “Up!” Maglor happily obliged. 

Maedhros smile at the pair of them. Maglor pulled Caranthir to his chest and rested his chin on the boy’s head. “He's going to be too big for that soon,” he reminded him.

“And I'll find another child,” Maglor replied absentmindedly.

“Stay with him,” Maedhros said. “I'll get the flute.”

His smaller sibling grinned up at him. “Really?” 

“Yes. Run ahead with the others, I'll catch up in a minute.”

“Thank you!” Maglor cried. 

Their grandfather had decided that his (entire) family needed to go on a picnic and day trip to the local park. Feanor hadn't been pleased at the idea of being in the same place as his half-brothers and their children, but he had given in for his father’s sake. 

The rather ADHD musician grinned at his brother. “Did you hear that brother?” he asked Caranthir. “We have the greatest big brother ever.”

“And don't you forget it.”

Maglor laughed. “Never.”

Maedhros turned back, enjoying the silence that settled over the woods as his family faded behind him. He loved them, every last one, but sometimes it was so nice to be free of them. To be alone, and in the open air, to spread his arms and let the breeze ruffle his shirt. Not to have a brother or cousin clamoring for attention, or a parent asking for help. 

They had picnicked on a cliff, over looking the hills and, in the distance, the city. Maedhros sighed and looked around for his brother’s flute. He had just found it and tucked it into the bag he had brought, when something – he would never know what exactly, no matter how many times he tried to remember – slammed into him and shoved him off the cliff. 

He fell screaming.

He grabbed for the cliff wall as he fell, the pads of his fingers tearing and bleeding, but to no avail. He could not stop falling. Then he caught something. Somehow he caught it in his hand, wrapping it around his wrist. Pain seared through his arm when he suddenly stopped falling. But he didn't let go. 

Xxxxxxxx

Fingon frowned over his shoulder. “Shouldn't he be back by now?” He asked Maglor.

Maglor, busy watching Caranthir race around his cousins, merely shrugged. “Maybe he's trying to get out of babysitting,” he suggested. “Catch a kid for me, would you?” 

Fingon sighed and grabbed Caranthir, shoving him into his brother’s arms. “I'm worried.” 

Maglor grunted from the sudden, and unexpected weight. “I can't go look for him; I have to look after my brothers.”

Fingon glared at him, but said, “Don't let anyone realize I'm gone.” 

“Alright.” Maglor shifted Caranthir. “Nelyo’s right,” he grumbled, “you are getting too big for this.” The fussy child pulled a handful of dark hair in retribution.

Fingon turned and started back up the slope toward their picnic site. He knew he was probably being paranoid, that Maedhros was probably just fine, but something, a sick feeling in his gut, made him want to check. No doubt he would stumble across his cousin during his walk, then they could both have a good laugh over his paranoia. 

He grew increasingly concerned the farther he walked. How long could it take to find a flute? Shouldn't he have ran into Maedhros by now? He began to jog.

His stomach twisted tighter as he reached the cliff top and found no sign of his cousin. “Nelyo?” he shouted. “Nelyo?” 

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a whistle he had brought (it had been given to him by his father years ago, when he had been a Boy Scout). He blasted a long shrill note. 

Somewhere in the distance, a shrill note, like a flute played out of tune, answered him.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Maedhros had not been idle. The object he had grabbed turned out to be a rope, most likely left by a climber some time ago. He wasn’t going to complain about the age, as long as it supported his weight. Despite the pain in his wrist and arm he struggled to find a way down from the cliff. Unfortunately, his right wrist was almost worthless. He looked around desperately, until his eyes locked onto the perfect rock formation, where he could sit until someone came. Someone would, he was certain. Eventually.

The outcropping was to his left, currently out of his reach. He shifted, trying reach for it. No luck. Gripping the rope tightly with his left hand (his right had gone numb), he pulled back and swung. Maedhros kicked his feet, building just enough swing to near the outcropping. His left hand shot out, grabbed a rock, and hung on. He drug his body onto the rock, leaning his back to the cliff and wrapping his legs around the rock outcropping. 

Maedhros’ right arm was twisted awkwardly across the front of his body, still attached to the rope. He groaned in pain and leaned on the rocks, gasping for breath. Help would come. He just had to believe. 

He reached into his bag, and pulled out the small flute Maglor had lost. For a moment he felt a wave of anger. He was tempted to throw it from the cliff top. If it wasn’t for the damn flute, he would be fine. It was all Maglor’s fault. 

For a terrifying moment, he hated his brother.

But just as quickly the feeling passed. He knew Maglor would not have intentionally hurt him. He had gone willingly. Maedhros was still convinced something had pushed him, and he felt revulsion at the thought of Maglor falling, instead of him. Maglor, sweet - poetic Maglor – who believed that everything had its time. If he had started falling, would he have fought for life? Or let himself plunge to his death?

He risked a glance at his right hand. Blood tricked from the wounds on his wrist, but oddly, and perhaps this should have worried him – he didn't feel it. He groaned. They would come for him. He believed in them.

He did not hear Fingon yelling, he had begun to drift off to sleep from the blood loss, but he did hear the shrill whistle blasts. Maedhros raised Maglor’s flute to his lips, silently thanked his brother for the music lessons, and blew. 

Xxxxxxxxxx

Fingon heard the answer, fell to his stomach, and crawled to the edge of the cliff. He peered over and stared at his cousin, trapped on a cliff, and far out of his reach. “Nelyo!” 

“Help!” came the feeble reply. “Please help me.” 

Fingon was afraid to leave him, but knew he had no chance of getting down. He frantically drug through his pockets, knowing he always had something useful, and finally found what he was looking for; a two way radio. “I have a radio,” he called to Maedhros. The coppertop didn't answer.

_~Hello?~_ his brother’s lazy voice filtered through.

_~Give dad the radio~_ Fingon ordered.

_~Why should I?~_ Fingon could plainly hear Turgon’s amusement. He loved feeling like he was in charge.

_~Because, if you don't, I swear I will~_

_~I'm right here Finno~_ Fingolfin’s voice filtered through the radio. _~What do you need?~_ Something Fingon loved about his father, was he never ending love and trust. Fingolfin knew he wouldn't threaten his brother just for fun.

_~Get back to the picnic site. Now. Hurry. Bring Feanor. Rope. Band-aids. Something.~_

_~Are you hurt?~_ Fingolfin sounded panicked, suddenly. In the background he could hear movement and other muffled voices.

_~Nelyo fell off the cliff, he's hanging on but- HURRY~_ Fingon was shaking harder than he ever had in his life.

_~Stay calm~_ To Fingon’s surprise it was now Feanor speaking through the radio. _~Tell him I’m coming. Keep him talking. Awake. Steady.~_

Fingon lowered the radio and looked back down at Maedhros. “Did you hear that?” he shouted. “You have to stay awake.” 

______________________There was no reply._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Xxxxxxxxxx_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Feanor was a sprinter. Fingolfin had never seen him run before. He wondered why his brother had never competed in school. If he always ran like this, he would have been unstoppable. Finwë was staying with the younger children, the rest were struggling to keep up with Feanor. Maglor, however, was just behind him, driven by his guilt (‘he was getting my flute,’ he had whispered in horror.)_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________When Fingolfin arrived, Fingon was laying by the cliff, calling down to Maedhros. Feanor had already reached him, fallen on his stomach, and crawled to the cliff. “Nelyo!” Fingolfin raced to stretch out beside his brother and, staring in horror at the sight below them._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“Dad!” Maedhros’ voice was weak, barely reaching them. He was hardly moving._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Behind them, Maglor hit the ground, sobbing and shaking. “My fault,” he whispered. “My fault.” Finarfin knelt beside him, rubbing his shoulders and hushing him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Feanor, thankfully, believed in being prepared. He had brought rope to their picnic (Fingolfin had once joked to his little brother that his ‘preparedness’, was just ensuring he had murder weapons “should the opportunity to kill us both ever arise.”) and now he tied one end around the large rock that had served as their table, and tossed the other end off the cliff._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“Perhaps we should wait,” Fingolfin fretted. “Father said he would call for help.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Feanor looked at his brother with more loathing than he ever had. “This is my son’s life we’re talking about.” He swung himself over the cliff and began to descend. “There’s no time to waste.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Maglor was still panicking. “This is all my fault,” he kept saying._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Fingolfin looked over his shoulder and pointedly met his younger brother’s eyes. Finarfin nodded. “No, no. Calm down.” He held his nephew tightly and tried to assure him. “Your father will get him, everything will be fine, you'll see.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Feanor held the rope tightly, slowly climbing down the cliff. There were streaks of red across many of the larger rock formations, and he very intentionally did not imagine his son’s hands desperately grabbing for purchase. Every breath, every second that he spent fretting was a second longer that his son suffered. He would not allow that._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________He finally reached Maedhros, holding out a reassuring arm. “Calm down child. Calm down.” He stared back up to the cliff top, wondering how he could get both himself and his son back up, back to safety. He stroked his son’s cheek reassuringly. “Daddy's here.” His hair was soaked with sweat, the skin of his fingers red an angry, and his right arm was twisted, held awkwardly by a rope. “Daddy's here,” he repeated._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Fingolfin’s head appeared. “Grab him,” he suggested. “We can pull you both up.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________On the one hand, it wasn't a bad idea. On the other hand, it came from his half-brother. Feanor looked at his son, drifting away from the pain. “Alright!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________He cut the rope several inches from Maedhros’ hand, leaving it wrapped around his wrist, afraid of causing farther damage by trying to remove it. “Can you manage to climb onto my back?” Feanor asked._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Maedhros nodded. Feanor turned his back to him, and his son wrapped his arms around him. His full weight hit him a moment later, as his legs left the rocks and wrapped around his father’s waist._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Feanor suddenly had a vision of him as a child, demanding to be carried. “Are you ready?” he whispered._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“Yes.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“Pull us up!” He shouted._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________The rope began to move in answer, all Feanor had to do was walk his legs up the cliff and keep his son balanced on his back._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“Stay with me Nelyo. We’re almost there. Stay with me my brave child.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________When they were close enough to the top, Celegorm and Fingon leaned over the cliff and reached out, grabbing Maedhros and lifting his weight free of his father. Finrod and Turgon were helping Fingolfin with the rope. Feanor quickly pulled himself up (and if he accepted Fingolfin’s offered hand he wouldn't say) and leaned over his eldest, who was propped between his cousins._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________“Help is on the way.” Finarfin was sitting with one arm around Maglor, reassuring him. In he I other hand he held Fingon’s radio, the mate to which Finwë had. “Father said someone will be here soon.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	2. Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the hospital.

“We have to do something.”

“Don't worry,” Fingolfin replied. “Just be patient.” 

“He's going to wear a hole in the floor.”

“Half an hour. Can you wait half an hour?” 

Finarfin bit his lip and watched Maglor pace. He wasn't certain he could wait that long. The musician hadn't stopped pacing since they had arrived at the hospital nearly two hours ago. “Maglor, are you hungry?”

The boy stopped for a moment, looked over at his uncle, shook his head, then resumed pacing. 

Fingolfin looked sideways at his brother. “I got him to pause!” Finarfin whispered.

“Good for you.” The elder continued reading his magazine. 

Finarfin shook his head. “Do you not care at all?” he hissed.

“Panicking won't do any good,” he replied calmly.

Finarfin smacked the magazine from his hands. “Your nephew is hurt, he might die; your other nephew is about to have a heart attack; and you- your reading about Justin Beiber!” 

“What else should I read about? The Kardashians?”

Before he could pick the magazine up and continue reading Finarfin snatched it, rolled it, and started hitting him with it. “Don't” – whack – “you” – whack – “have” – whack – “any” – whack – “emotions?” 

Fingolfin caught his brother’s wrist. “Come here.” Still holding his wrist he pulled him out of the waiting room, shutting the door behind them. “What are you doing?” he whispered. 

“I'm not the problem! You're the emotionless one!” 

“You are frightening Kanofinwë!” He grabbed the magazine from his brother and struck him over the head with it. “We should have sent him home with grandfather and the others!”

“You don't seem to care!” 

“I do care or I wouldn't be here!” he snapped. “I don't like hospitals, I would much rather be at home!” 

"Then why are you acting like that!"

“Stressing only gives him more to stress about. We cannot pretend there's nothing wrong – because a lot of something's are wrong – but what we can do is remain calm for his sake!”

“I'm only trying to help!”

“I know that! And I appreciate your help; goodness even knows what he would have done if you hadn't grabbed him on the cliff!”

"Then why won't you let me help him now?” 

“Because you aren't,” he snapped. “You're frightening him and stressing him.”

Finarfin sighed. “Fine. You go- go talk to him and I'll get us all something to eat.” 

With a smile Fingolfin said, "Alright. Hurry back. He’s fond of you.” 

Finarfin grinned. “Good.” 

Fingolfin reentered the waiting room. “Kano, come here.” He sat and motioned for the boy to sit beside him. When Maglor hesitated he hardened his voice and ordered, “Sit.”

Maglor moved to sit beside him. He wrapped his arms around his nephew and held him tightly. “Where’s Uncle Ara?”

“He's getting us something to eat.” 

“I'm not hungry.” Maglor sat stiffly, as though barely tolerating his Uncle’s touch.

Fingolfin patted his stomach. “Just eat a little, alright? Humor me?” 

“Okay.” 

He held his nephew tighter. “This isn't your fault, Kano.” 

“It was my fucking flute,” he snarled, shoving away from Fingolfin.

“Language,” Fingolfin scolded. “But that doesn't make it your fault.”

“Then who’s fault it is?” 

“It was an accident, so no one’s.”

Maglor sniffed, fighting tears. “Will he hate me?”

“I doubt it very much,” Fingolfin replied. “None of us do. Alright?” 

“Is my dad angry? Where is he?” He stared up at his uncle pitifully, tears sparking in his eyes.

“He’s still with your brother. He texted me and asked me to stay with you.” Feanor had ordered him, actually. He had been in the waiting room with them, but had left the moment Maedhros was out of surgery. “I know he loves you.” 

Maglor nodded. “Maybe I am a little hungry,” he whispered. 

“Ara will be here soon,” he promised. “Then we can eat.”

Arafinwe carried in a tray packed with food a few minutes later. “I wasn't sure what everyone would want, and it should keep,” he explained, setting it down. 

"Thank you." 

They had just finished eating when Fingolfin’s phone buzzed.

Feanor: He’s awake

He gulped nervously, and glanced up at Finarfin and Maglor. They were engrossed in a game of tic-tac-toe and neither had noticed the text. “I'll be right back.” 

“Alright,” Finarfin mumbled. “We’ll be here.” He was losing badly.

He hurried out into the hall and answered his brother.

Fingolfin: How is he?

It took a moment for his brother to reply.

Feanor: He’s fine. How’s Kano?

Fingolfin: Fine ish? He’s finally sat down and eaten. He's playing with Ara

Feanor: Thank you. It's nice not having to worry about him.

Fingolfin grinned, knowing his brother had never been so nice to him. 

Fingolfin: Of course

Feanor: Feanor said it was ‘nice’

Feanor: This is Nerdanel btw.

He sighed, disappointed. His reply was a lie.

Fingolfin: I had guessed

Feanor (Nerdanel): I'll come get Kano in a few minutes

Fingolfin: K

He stepped back into the room, Finarfin had lost two games in the time he had been in the hall. Sitting beside Maglor he wrapped an arm around him and said, “He woke up.”

Maglor turned sharply, sending the tic-tac-toe sheets flying. “How is he?”

“She didn't say much. Your mother is coming to get you soon.” 

“Can I go now?”

“Have patience. It will be fine.” 

The next thirty minutes were the worst yet. Every time someone moved in the hall Maglor would jump and turn, expecting his mother. By the time Nerdanel arrived Fingolfin was one more false alarm away from just taking Maglor upstairs anyway.

“Mother!” the teen cried, running and flinging his arms around Nerdanel. 

“Shhhhh,” she held him and rocked him, smiling at her brother-in-laws. “Thank you.”

Both brothers smiled warmly. 

“Let’s go see Nelyo,” Nerdanel whispered to Maglor. “He’s asking for you.”

Maglor smiled tightly, nodding. As they left Fingolfin let out a breath he had not realized he was holding. “I hope that goes well,” he muttered.

“How couldn't it?” Finarfin asked. “Maitimo loves his brothers dearly.”

Fingolfin nodded, hoping the love would register through the pain.

Xxxxxxxxxx  
Xxxxxxxxxx

Nerdanel knocked on the door and leaned inside. A moment later Feanor exited. He smiled at Maglor and hugged him stiffly, then pushed him inside. Maglor was stunned as he stumbled through the door, not having expected to be sent on his own.

“Kano.” 

The voice was weak and cracked, the speaker more so. Maedhros was pale; white sheets on white skin, a sickly blue gown clashing with the only color, red hair. 

Maglor swallowed. “Nelyo.”

Maedhros smiled weakly. “Come here.”

His footsteps echoed loudly in the room in which otherwise the only sound was Maedhros’s strained breathing and the beep of a machine. His hand was bandaged and lying beside him on the pillow, an IV disappeared into the flesh. A tube provided oxygen to his nose. 

Maglor sat in the chair beside him, unable to meet his eyes. “How are you?” he asked lamely.

Maedhros chuckled humorlessly. “Dad said I don't have to do any sports this year, which is a definite bonus. I think I’ll join the GSA instead.”

Maglor forced a laugh. “Good. You hate swim-team.”

Maedhros gagged. “I despise it!”

They both managed to laugh, then lapsed into silence. “How are you?” Maedhros asked.

Maglor shrugged. “I'm fine, I'm not the one who's-“ he caught sight of his brother’s damaged wrist and suddenly felt sick.

“I’ll be fine.”

“They said, they said you may never use it again.”

“They sewed the ligaments back together,” Maedhros replied. “We don't know how it will heal.”

Maglor felt tears biting his eyes. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.

“Sorry? Sorry for what?”

“This.” He gestured weakly around the room.

“This? Holy hell Kano, this isn't your fault.”

“Yes it is!” he hissed. “It's all my fault!” 

"No! No it's not!” Maedhros argued. 

“I should have just gotten the damn flute myself!” 

Maedhros moved as though he was trying to sit up, then grunted and fell back. “I'm glad you didn't go back,” he whispered. 

“What?”

“Please don't take this the wrong way, I don't think you would have survived.” Maedhros reached his uninjured arm out to Maglor. 

Grasping his brother’s hand Maglor said the only thing that came to mind, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ Finished ~   
> I hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> I chose it being Maglor’s flute that Maedhros goes back for (I thought of making it be something of Feanor’s) because I see canon-Maglor as having so much guilt surrounding his brother’s torment; “I should have rescued him; I should have stopped him; I should have gone instead; etc.” 
> 
> I also considered having Maedhros’ hand completely removed (amputation to save his life maybe?) but settler instead for ligament damage, rendering it useable, but just barely.


End file.
